


Made of Bird Bones

by Capucine



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Damian, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, Resurrection, Reverse Batgirl AU, Reverse Robin AU, Sad, Temporary Character Death, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6421060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim was tortured and killed by the Joker after taking up the mantle of Robin, after Damian left it.</p>
<p>But it turns out his death was temporary--the effects, however, are not. And Jason, Bruce's youngest and going by the moniker of Bluejay, is in grave danger because of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made of Bird Bones

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to Eldest, but it's not necessary to read it to understand what's going on at all. This is standalone in that sense.

Tim was cracked as an egg that had been thrown against the pavement with great force when he was resurrected. He was mad, dangerous, and Damian couldn’t have been more resentful.

Of Bruce. His father. Batman, who should have never let Tim be tormented in such a way.

Jason was the one to suffer the immediate effects of Tim returning from the dead. Bluejay was out and about, investigating a small lead on what seemed to be organized purse snatchers (Batman wanted to start him out small) and then gone.

This time, the response was immediate. Full attention was locked on recovering Jason, finding him and saving him.

It would never make up for Tim.

Damian went with Cass, who still struggled to speak but no one was about to sit out. Steph manned the computers, still fumbling a little but having crammed so much knowledge into her head while her body adjusted to the loss of her leg that her input was invaluable.

Bruce had gone with Harper.

Damian and Cass were the ones to find Jason, perhaps not who Tim planned, perhaps they were. It was hard to tell.

Jason was trussed, mostly naked, beaten within an inch of his life, and hanging from the middle of a large, empty warehouse. His tannish skin stood starkly against dark red welts and bruises and cuts. 

And Damian could have killed right then, was ready to charge in, because Jason was his brother, one of his people, and how dare whoever this was—

But Cass grabbed his arm. Motioned with her head discreetly towards a corner—and there someone was. The slight movement of someone there made his eyes sharpen, focus in on the figure. It had a batarang, he realized, and might very well hurl it at Jason should they make a wrong move.

Before they could make a decision, though, Jason’s eyes cracked open, and he saw them—and the slightest, tremulous sound escaped him, before he shut his eyes tightly, clearly cursing his mistake. 

They had to move, _now_.

Cass was already out there, and managed to deflect the batarang, and Damian moved towards the figure.

It met him head on, like it knew subterfuge was not the way to go.

It was short, about 5 foot 4 inches or so, and Damian was his father’s son, so he towered over the figure. But it was also fast, and alarmingly went for weak points, past injuries. Like he knew.

“How dare you,” Damian growled, a rage rising in him at another brother coming so close to death. He wanted to kill the man, and he didn’t know how his father hadn’t killed the Joker. He knew that it had taken such restraint on his own part, his father literally sedating him to keep him from going on a murderous rampage.

The Clown was crippled, but alive.

And this bastard almost killed his second brother. A good kid, a twelve-almost-thirteen year old child.

He might not have really wanted Bruce to take on another partner or teammate, but he still wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Jason. He was his brother.

And the figure seemed enraged, getting sloppy, attempting to stab him--

And then Damian had him, wrist wrenched behind his back and forced him onto his front on the floor. The figure was much weaker than he was, struggling underneath him, even using fairly typical hold breaks to attempt freedom—

But he could do nothing.

“You fucking—you liar—let me go—I’ll have to kill you all—it’s just—you don’t—LET ME UP!” The last bit was like an ice shard to Damian’s heart, the final confirmation in the tone.

Tim. It was Tim.

And he tried to kill Jason.

Bruce had destroyed Tim, and now was continuing the destruction—of Jason, of everyone he came into contact with.

Damian’s teeth clenched tightly, and he snarled, his fury hard to articulate.

Bruce had fucked up—continued fucking up.

Tim was hyperventilating, he realized, and Damian was not certain what to do. So, he secured his younger brother’s wrists with a zip tie, and turned him over, avoiding a haphazard kick towards his groin.

The mask, black and unadorned, came off easily, and he was met with Tim’s glowing green eyes. They were frightened, confused, angry, just chaotic. “Get the fuck off!” 

Tim had not done the whole cursing thing as long as Damian had known him. But this was undoubtedly Tim.

The scars were gone. But the Lazarus Pit would do that. And Damian was suddenly seized with rage at his other side of the family. How dare they.

How dare they drag him up from his grave and put him through this, how dare they desecrate the grave, how dare they nearly cause Jason’s death, letting a pit-crazed Tim run wild—

“We have Bluejay,” he head Cass say into the comm.

Tim screamed rather suddenly, fighting the zip tie. Tears started down his face, and Damian couldn’t imagine the way his mind had been warped.

“Calm down.” He said it too sharply, but he wasn’t sure if he should care for Tim, or leave him to justice, or what justice _was_ in this case.

“Get off!” Tim shouted.

Damian wasn’t so much as touching him.

Tim looked bone thin, and probably the only way he’d gotten the drop on Jason was that he was unexpected, excellent at planning, and Jason had not nearly as much training nor much info on Tim’s fighting style.

Damian swallowed thickly.

He looked back to see Cass had Jason bundled in her cape, the boy’s face pressed against her chest and his eyes tightly closed. He looked like he might be crying.

“Please, I stopped, I stopped,” Tim pleaded, “I didn’t have—you don’t even—it was the solution, I swear, not the one—“

And Damian felt like maybe he should still kill the Joker. Tim was not with them right now.

He sedated him, essentially knocking him out, and picked him up. He was bird-light, so small and fragile. And Damian solemnly called in, “Robin II is secured.”

The shit storm could wait, he decided, as he clicked off the comm.

For now, he had brothers to take care of. Cass seemed to share the sentiment, holding Jason carefully and petting his hair as they made their way back in Damian’s batmobile.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Tim. He is essentially hallucinating, cause he's got a motherfucker of a case of PTSD plus other issues. It can give you severe psychotic symptoms! Good times. :P
> 
> And poor Jay. It really isn't his fault at all.


End file.
